


mad about you

by oathofsilence



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-12 17:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19578385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oathofsilence/pseuds/oathofsilence
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale were used to seeing each other only every now and then, but influencing Warlock forced them to see each other every day. This fic explores the way their relationship shifts and changes during that time.





	1. prologue.

**A.D. MMXIII**  
Warlock Dowling was five years old.  
It was time.  
The next stage of _The Arrangement_ had begun.

* * *

Aziraphale had readily and happily agreed for them to become _godfathers_. Crowley was only now starting to realize what that actually meant.  
Sure, they would have to take care of an annoying child, a probably horrible child - he was the Antichrist, after all - but it also meant they would see each other every day, or nearly every day, at least. That was new. Usually they saw each other only now and then. In the beginning sometimes hundreds of years would pass without them really talking to each other; only being vaguely aware of what the other one was doing or were they were, if even that.  
Their meetings had gotten more frequent and less coincidental after the Arrangement had been made, back in the day, and even more for the past couple decades.  
Crowley would say he couldn’t really recall when they’d started seeing each other more, but he would be lying. (He lied a lot to himself, he thought it was a low-effort demonic thing to do on a day-to-day basis.)  
It had been since the incident in the church in 1941. Since Crowley had very explicitly done something that showed that he cared about Aziraphale. He had done it very nonchalantly though, if he might say so himself. The angel was just very sentimental and _eternally grateful_ or whatever. So, more dinners, more check-ups, more “us” and “we”.  
You see now, the problem with this whole thing was, that if you had a friend like Aziraphale - as if any human experience or word could compare to their relationship - it was easier if you didn’t see each other that often. You’d get too caught up in things otherwise. Lose sight of what was really important.  
He barely would admit it to himself, but it also fucking sucked to not see the angel. It really, really did. But it was better like that.

Easier on his conscience.  
  


* * *

Aziraphale had insisted on taking the position of the gardener. He could have chosen any other work in the Dowling Residence, but no, it had to be the gardener. Crowley wondered sometimes if it had been to annoy him a bit.  
Crowley would become the kid’s nanny, then.  
That way, he was technically closer to him than Aziraphale would be and to the outside it would look like Crowley is in the better spot whereas Aziraphale would observe and sabotage him from a little ways away. At least, that was the plan.

Magically, neither of them really had to apply for their positions. It was as if no one else had ever even been considered for it.  
On their first day, neither Mister nor Misses Dowling were home. Mr Dowling was in The U.S., Mrs Downling was at Warlock’s school, for whatever reason. Crowley and Aziraphale were shown around by a very tired, very underpaid maid. Aziraphale considered using a miracle to up the numbers on her paycheck - it’s not like her rich employers would notice.  
On that first day, they didn’t have to work as much as sign a bunch of paperwork, much to Aziraphale’s chagrin, and memorize a bunch of rules and Warlock’s schedule, likes and dislikes, food preferences and so on and so forth, as well as the mansion’s layout. They were both introduced to Warlock briefly, who was too engrossed in his toys to be paying much attention. Presumably he saw so many people, strangers, he didn’t care for but still had to smile at that he just didn’t give a fuck about doing that in his own home. Which you couldn’t really blame him for.

They didn’t leave together, but Crowley was waiting out front with his Bentley. If the car had had a normal motor, he’s probably have left the motor running, the bastard.  
Walking towards him over the gravel, Aziraphale quickly made himself look his usual self again.  
“Oh, thank _Satan_!” Crowley exclaimed. “You really went a bit overboard with your disguise.”  
Aziraphale tugged at his clothes and looked Crowley up and down. “Oh, and you didn’t?”  
Crowley was still in his nanny outfit. Knee-length pencil skirt, lipstick, a blazer, hair curled and done up, hat.   
He raised his arms in defense. “ _I_ look _amazing_ , alright? Sexy but still authoritative.”  
Aziraphale couldn’t argue with that. His thoughts did trail off a little when he’d first seen Crowley wearing lipstick. It wasn’t the first time Crowley had played with humans’ gender stereotypes, but the lip colour... sure was something, somehow.  
Better not to dwell on it.  
“Sure,” he amended flatly, opening the car door. Crowley did the same.

“So, what do you think?” Aziraphale asked after a few quiet miles. No _Queen_ tonight, somehow.  
“Eh, I dunno. He didn’t look much like a destroyer of worlds to me. But then again, unless you’re a full-on demon, you rarely do.”  
Aziraphale heard a little _whoosh_ next to him and saw that Crowley had reverted back to his usual every day outfit.  
The hair length was roughly the same, but he’d taken the top layer of his hair and tied it to a little ponytail at the back of his head.  
Frankly, Aziraphale had had quite enough of thinking... _thoughts_ while looking at Crowley today, so he went back to looking out of the window. Even though this made him feel nauseated considering the speed they were driving at. It was better than the alternative.  
“True,” Aziraphale said after a couple of minutes. “Although, _you_ don’t look much like a destroyer of worlds either.”  
Crowley took a few moments to reply, having to remember what Aziraphale was even replying to now.  
“Mhm. That’s because I’m not. I’m just a master of mischief and mayhem. Dunno how Hell keeps crediting me with things like World War 2 and all some such. Maybe I’m too handsome for them, maybe they think someone as handsome as me can only be incredibly malicious and powerful.”  
Aziraphale turned. “Can’t you talk about anything other than how attractive you are for one second today? This is serious!”  
Crowley grinned at him, like he was a venus fly trap that just caught something, his eyebrows rising up behind his sunglasses. “ _Now_ I can shut up about it, because you just agreed with me.”  
“Oh, lord. You are _insufferable_.” He turned to the window, hiding the small smile by pursing his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to hell everyone
> 
> i thought, y'know, since the time they were taking care of Warlock was probably the first time ever where they saw each other more frequently than every two weeks it must have had an impact on their relationship, so... here we are. Originally I planned to write a chapter per year, (so 7 chapters including the prologue) but we'll see if it stays like that!
> 
> ♥ pls leave kudos and a comment if u liked it ♥
> 
> u can find me on twitter @erziraphael and on tumblr @tieflingbloodhunter !


	2. chapter one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some stargazing, a cute date, and some significant developments.

Aziraphale looked up at the stars, taking deep breaths of the fresh night air. It was better here than it was in London. Not that he technically really needed his lungs and had to care about air quality, but it was nice. Like dessert is nice.

He could hear footsteps coming up behind him. Maybe it was their special connection, or their familiarity, but of course he knew it was Crowley.

“What are you doing out here, angel?” he asked as he came to sit next to Aziraphale on the stone bench. Technically, neither of them were supposed to be here, in the Dowling family’s garden, this time of night. But they both could have humans’ gazes just slide off them, so nobody would even notice. Perks of being supernatural.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said (sighed?) as a greeting. 

He just stared at Aziraphale, brows raised in question still. In fact, he couldn’t have stopped staring even if he’d wanted to.  
Aziraphale’s hair positively glowed in the moonlight, his features soft and peaceful. To Crowley he always looked beautiful, magical, but right here, right now, anyone would have understood that this was an ethereal being, an _actual_ _angel_. That an angel’s true form looked anything but innocent and fluffy was a thought for another day.

Aziraphale slowly turned to meet Crowley’s gaze. “Oh! You’re off duty, I see,” he said, referencing the fact that Crowley wasn’t in his work-clothes, so to speak.

“‘Course I am, have you looked at the clock?”

“No, no I haven’t, in fact.” He smiled, the smile that made his eyes sparkle, and Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. ”It’s just such a beautiful night, I couldn’t tear myself away. Just look around you!” He shook his head slightly. “I think this might have become one of my favourite spots, actually.”

“Really? You enjoy spending your free time at your workplace? That just sounds like an advertisement to me.”

“Come on, Crowley, dear, look.  _ Really _ look.” And he did.

It really was quite beautiful, actually. Even through the nighttime-desaturation (and the tint added by his glasses) you could tell the beautiful colours the flowers had, the lush grass. During the day, you could see bees buzzing about, even butterflies. Squirrels, goldfinches. It was like out of a  _ Disney _ movie, with Aziraphale being the princess every living being loved. Only the thing was, it was Aziraphale who loved every living being. On principle. Exclusions applied, of course, he wasn’t a doormat that just forgave everyone for everything, but exclusions confirm the rule. 

He wondered if Aziraphale loving every living being included him. He was a demon, after all. So, he wasn’t human. Was he  _ alive _ , technically? Did he just  _ exis _ t? And was that enough for Aziraphale?

Crowley let out a big sigh. Really, Crowley did like plants and all, and could appreciate them, and yet, and  _ yet _ between all of them, under a starry sky, all he really wanted to look at was Aziraphale. It kind of had always been like that. Almost as if after he found his world couldn’t revolve around God, and couldn’t revolve around Satan he’d finally find a place - or well, a person - to call home. 

Well, this was  _ complete bollocks _ , and Crowley wanted off this ride, thank you very much. 

“Yeah, it’s-- quite the-- yep.” Smooth. “Gotta hand it to you, considering you haven’t a clue about how to  _ properly  _ care for plantlife, it’s… nice.”

Aziraphale tutted. “Sometimes, there’s more than one good solution to something! Plus, I don’t think I  _ could _ go around  _ yelling _ at plants in someone’s backyard, even if I wanted to.”

Crowley shrugged, nodded. “Yeah. Alright. Fair point.”

He pointed a few yards away from them, to a flower bed filled with small, round, almost fluffy looking blossoms, in many different colours, although a lot of them seemed to be red? Maybe magenta.    
“Did you plant zinnia?”

Aziraphale perked up. “I did! Aren’t they gorgeous. And so sturdy. They make me think of you, you know.” He risked a glance at Crowley, only to look away into the middle distance again.   
  


Only later did Crowley understand what Aziraphale had meant by that. Or maybe not. Probably.  _ Oh, hell. _

He wasn’t that well versed on flowers inparticular, but if he remembered correctly zinnia symbolised, among other things, endurance through any trials and tribulations. Okay, yeah, that seemed familiar, that checked out. 

Then there was something about  _ affection _ .

This, Crowley had to look up, because he didn’t trust his mind to not make up something in wishful thinking. But there it was, black on white,  _ magenta coloured zinnia mean lasting affection. _

Lasting.

Affection.

Crowley was gonna get a lasting fucking headache.

Maybe he would take a lasting  _ nap _ !

_ Fuck _ , what the  _ fuck _ !?

  
  
  


It was properly summer now. August. Bees and wasps buzzing about everywhere in the garden. 

Miraculously nobody holding a sweet snack or drink was stung or even bothered slightly by the little creatures - Aziraphale had politely asked them to limit their search for food to the flora he provided for them and to please not approach the humans. 

The insects had, surprised by the nice words in contrast to the usual screaming and swatting, decided to honour his request.

Bees and wasps were buzzing about everywhere in the garden - just not today. It was summer now, proper summer, and that meant thunderstorms.

It was absolutely pouring, and yet Crowley was standing outside his Bentley, the door open, hands resting on the car's roof. The inside of the car didn't get wet, but Crowley was positively soaked. His hair was matted against his skull in thick, glistening strands; he'd even gotten rid of the glasses, since with all the rain drops on them he wouldn't be able to see a thing anyway.

He was waiting for Aziraphale this evening, like he had been most evenings, for over a year now. They didn't  _ have _ do do it like this but it felt…  _ human _ , sharing a ride home. It saved trouble.

Aziraphale half-jogged across the gravel, wordlessly opening and then closing the Bentley's door searching refuge from the rain. 

When Crowley joined him, the angel's clothing was completely dry and his hair looked perfectly blow-dried. Crowley held on to his soaked-through appearance a moment longer. He thought it rather made him look rugged, a bit more dangerous. 

If asked, Aziraphale would have said he looked like someone in need of a cup of cocoa and a blanket wrapped around them.

But no one asked him.

"Ghastly weather today, isn't it? I hope the rain doesn't rip the petals off everything!"

"Six thousand years, angel, and you're gonna talk to me about the weather?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking Crowley up and down. "Well, looking at you, it seems to be a pressing topic! Why didn't you just stay in the car?"

Crowley grinned. "Ohh! But a  _ thunderstorm!  _ A summer thunderstorm! A beautiful thing to behold, angel. I reckon everyone should just enjoy the rain every now and then. Would do the world a whole lot of good." He turned his head and also the key in the ignition.

"But then that's exactly against your agenda, isn't it?" said Aziraphale.

Crowley sputtered. "I- oh come- for fuck's sake,  _ figure of speech _ ! We've been over this!"

He could see his friend grin out of the corner of his eye.

He cleared his throat. “Well, anyway. Status update? How’s it going with the boy?”

“Fine, I suppose. He does like, even respect, animals now and makes sure not to step on worms and slugs. Small steps to being good, right?”

Crowley nodded.

“How about you?”

“Oh, you know, some gruesome lullabies here, an age-inappropriate scary book there. Piece of cake.”

Aziraphale made a wistful expression at the mention of cake.

“Family’s gone tomorrow. We could have the place all to ourselves,” Crowley suggested, trying to sound nonchalant about it. “Could have ourselves a nice evening there, if you like. Dinner and some telly, perhaps.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m not the biggest fan of television, you know this.”

“Just dinner then.”

“... alright.”

It was a date.

  
  
  
  


Dinner, in this case, was some porcini risotto.

It was… strange, to do this in a private setting. Usually they went out to have dinner, but tonight they’d even made it themselves, with only very, very minor usage of their special talents. It was a sort of very domestic activity.

They couldn’t agree on a dessert in advance, but when Aziraphale came back from carrying their empty plates into the kitchen, there was a big plate with a perfectly round baked angel food cake adorned with different kinds of berries sitting in the middle of the dining room table. He smiled. Angel food was one of the few things Crowley actually went for without prior convincing and/or debate, and he could tell Crowley always had a little chuckle to himself about it because it was called  _ angel _ food and he, a  _ demon, _ was eating it. Small pleasures in life, and so on.

Now the both of them were sitting on the sofa, listening to the radio on low volume. Crowley was way too happy about being ble to listen to the radio without being interrupted by infernal gargling, for once. Except for, maybe, if you counted that David Guetta stuff.

They’d both been nursing wine for a while now, neither of them intent on getting drunk or even tipsy. It had been some sort of coping mechanism for the both of them; drinking to celebrate or drinking in despair. They’d really adapted the strangest things from humans.

Aziraphale hummed. “I think this is one of my favourite evenings we’ve spent together, my dear.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I feel relaxed. I feel like life is good and things are gonna be fine.”

“What things?”

“You know. Things. All things.”

Crowley snorted. “D’you know what? I feel the same, actually.” He nodded to himself. “Great after-work dinner with a colleague. Cheers.” He raised his glass and winked.

“Cheers.”

They clinked glasses, and suddenly Azirphale’s expression turned stern. He set the wine glass down on the coffee table and started wringing his hands.

A beat of silence before Crowley spoke up. “You alright there, angel?”

Aziraphale folded his hands, as if he was going to pray, and pointedly looked down at them.

“Crowley, I’ve been thinking.”

“... okay, go on?”

“I’ve… um, been meaning to try something.” He turned to face Crowley properly, posture oddly stiff.

Crowley shook his head slightly. “I don’t follow, what’s going on?”

Aziraphale scooted closer, took a deep breath. He looked like he was about to deliver the jeremiad.

“Alright, now you’re worrying me. Do you want to kill someone? Talk to me, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale nodded. Looked away. Looked back at Crowley.

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Crowley asked, though it was more of a dumbfounded sound than the actual word.

Aziraphale grimaced. “Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, it’s- I don’t know what got over me, uh, maybe I should go-”

“Aziraphale.”

The angel stopped in his tracks.

“Yes. Yes, you can… kiss me.” Crowley’s voice was a whisper.

“Oh. Alright, then.” 

Aziraphale generally was one to have a nervous disposition with all of his emotions showing themselves to the world. And yet, Crowley hadn’t often seen him look  _ this _ anxious. He offered a small smile as encouragement. He absolutely did not know what this situation here was, and why it was, and how, and  _ what? _ , but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna show it. Sure, Aziraphale wanted to kiss him. He’d said it out loud. If he had the time to really think about this it would make his head spin.

Slowly, Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s face and removed his glasses. Crowley sucked the air in between clenched teeth; it was almost a hiss.

It felt like there was a thick glass wall between them, like it was impossible to close the distance; it felt like they were pulled, or pushed, towards each other.

And then, Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed his lips to Crowley’s, closing his eyes.

‘Oh _ fuck’ _ , was all Crowley could think, leaning into it; reaching for Aziraphale-

Aziraphale pulled back, wide-eyed, looking frazzled. He let out a small, breathless laugh.

“Well! Done that now, then. Cross it off the list!”

Crowley frowned. “And, um, what did your little- your experiment… um.” 

Seeing Aziraphale this out of is after a kiss that lasted maybe 5 seconds and had barely been more than a peck made Crowley’s thoughts go into all sorts of directions.

“What’s the verdict?”

“You know, I thought that if I did it I would stop  _ thinking _ about doing it.” Aziraphale said, not looking at Crowley. “But now I find myself wanting to do it even more.” Here, he risked a glance.

Now the switch in Crowley’s brain was flicked for good, and was gonna stay like that forever, and he had a hand on the back of Aziraphale’s head and this,  _ this _ was a kiss. Neither of them held back this time, hundreds and thousands of years of wondering what it would feel like finally answered. 

Aziraphale’s hands were gripping Crowley’s jacket like a vice, trying to pull him closer, Crowley’s fingers combing through Aziraphale’s hair. 

He pulled back slightly for a second, grinning, before swinging a leg over Aziraphale’s, straddling him, going right back to kissing him like that’s what was powering his immortal life. It was hungry, and it was clumsy, and maybe a bit depraved, and Crowley never wanted to do anything else again for the rest of his miserable existence. The world could collapse around them; fire, rubble, screaming, and he wouldn’t care as long as he could keep doing this with Aziraphale.

The realisation hit him like a kick to the chest. His brain had finally caught up with what was happening. Again, he pulled back, just staring at Aziraphale, stunned.

He was kissing- no,  _ making out _ with Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale lazily smiled up at him. “God, I  _ love _ your eyes.”

Crowley smirked. “Ooh, blasphemy! I tempted an angel into blasphemy!”

“Shut up.”

Crowley accepted the command and leaned down to kiss Aziraphale’s neck, which was hidden under his shirt collar kept in place by a stupid bow tie that Crowley threw… somewhere. 

Aziraphale let his head fall back, closing his eyes. 

Whatever the hell was happening here was  _ good _ . He let out a satisfied hum.

Crowley thoroughly enjoyed getting these reactions out of his  _ friend _ . He smirked against the angel’s skin and, in an act of boldness, bit down and started sucking. 

The sound Aziraphale made was obscene; it was straight up  _ sinful.  _

“Crowley, f--”

Crowley stopped and looked at Aziraphale, eyebrows raised slightly. This was absolutely crazy. He felt like he couldn’t get enough of him and seeing, feeling,  _ knowing _ that this was reciprocated just… didn’t make sense.

“Now don’t you start swearing as well, or they’re gonna send someone to smite you.”

“Swearing is presumably the smallest offense I’ve committed tonight,” Aziraphale said, smiling. 

He took a deep breath. “Maybe we should… stop here, for tonight.”

Crowley smiled, closing his eyes, implying a bow. “As you wish.”

He climbed down from Aziraphale and immediately went back to his usual slouching.

As disheveled and out of breath as he was it didn’t look as cool as it usually did.

Aziraphale looked at him, a small smile playing on his lips. “We might have to repeat this  _ experiment _ , as you called it. Something this good must be an outlier.”

“Surely you’ve kissed people before.”

“Of course I have! But they weren’t  _ you _ .”

Crowley had to tap into all the powers of heaven and hell to not go back to kissing the angel senseless.

“Sure. Well then I’m glad to prove you wrong - I’m always this amazing.”

It was a mystery how Aziraphale managed to not glare, but only stare lovingly at him.

Later, when Crowley had driven Aziraphale home, they said goodnight with a small kiss.

“See you tomorrow, my dear.”

Crowley waved a hand as he walked to the Bentley.

The next day, Crowley didn’t show up to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a cliffhanger! :-)


End file.
